I had hoped to get atop a fairly popular peak near the headwaters of the North Fork to see what there was to be seen. The pictures I'd seen showed beauty beyond compare. Unfortunately, we were destined not to summit and it should have been clear from the start. However, I was blinded to the obvious by my desire to see one of the best vistas in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness.

The day started with Tokul licking nearly all the peanut butter off my bagel. The part she didn't lick landed half on the map and half face down on the rug. I wiped off the map and tried to pick the dog hair off the bagel, but since I was on a tight schedule to meet Dan in North Bend I opted not to make a new breakfast.

Before I'd even left came the next bad omen. Clara was standing at the top of the stairs naked and crying. She'd woken and taken off her diaper (worn only at night woo hoo!) and was terribly confused. We got her back into bed, but Amy reported later that she didn't ever really sleep again.

Although we'd made wrong turns heading out the North Fork in the past, this time we got to the "trailhead" with no problems. There was a truck and tent already there so we quietly got geared up and headed down the spur road toward the creek. The road ended and we bashed about in the brush for a few minutes before stumbling on the trail. It was small and sometimes disappeared, but we made good time through the trees.

Crossing the North Fork of the Snoqualmie was the first challenge. All the rocks were coated with wet, slick moss so I got down on all fours and kind of crawled my way across. Dan was still smarting from his last stream crossing so he couldn't really do the spider-man thing. He tried a log upstream and a spot downstream, but eventually crossed pretty much in the same spot I did. Unfortunately, at the end of his crossing he went into the water well above both boots.

While Dan wrung the water out of his socks and boots I scouted the two trails ahead. The lower trail looked more recently used so when Dan was ready we headed that way. The forest here was perhaps authentic old-growth with huge trees and little underbrush. We quickly came to a tiny stream and after paralleling it for a few hundred meters crossed and climbed into a clearing full of bunchberry and deer fern. Dan stopped to dry his socks a bit more and I started snapping pictures of two of my favorite native plants.

Ready to go, we headed up the trail and... oh dang. Where's the trail? A large tree had fallen over the winter and it looked like the trail had been obliterated. Well, huh. What now? We crashed through some stickers and up a ridge to the roar of another stream that promised to be the outlet from the Paradise Lakes, our first destination. All along we could see a rock face so it must be that the trail followed the creek up, right? (Impatient for the pain to begin? No, this wasn't the way the trail went. This should have been strike three.)

We crossed the creek and started up where it looked like there might be a trail. There wasn't, but the going was pretty easy so we continued. When we got to a spot we couldn't continue there was a handy log to cross on and a gully on the other side to follow up. Round about this point we should have listened to reason and realized that we were not doing well. We had to fight through devil's club to get to the base of a rock face and then work our way up using cracks in the rock and blueberry bushes.

When we got to the top we wondered how we'd ever get back down, but that was a problem for later, not now. We pushed up the valley with the creek on our right and a few hundred vertical feet from the lake stumbled on the trail again. We followed it almost to the lake before it vanished again. By this time, though, it was clear we didn't need no stinkin' trail and found the lower lake without a problem.

Lower Paradise Lake was far smaller than I had expected. It wasn't deep, but had at least one fish rising taking something small off the surface. The water was so clear I could see the fish cruising near the shore. There was a small amount of snow on the south side of the lake and I thought about gaiters, but decided they could stay in the pack for a while longer.

Upper Paradise Lake, just a few meters beyond the lower lake was gorgeous. It was a fairly large lake with fish rising near the outlet to the lower lake and a sharp ridge to the south. Dan and I had climbed Bare Mountain in March of 2005 and the Paradise Lakes were iced over, but in July at 4,000 feet there was just a smattering of snow left in the folds of the hills.

We chilled on the logs near the outlet for a while and ate lunch. It had taken us almost four hours to get to this point thanks to our off-trail adventure. I pumped water and we discussed our next move. Dan half-heartedly suggested we could try to find our way out from here, which was clearly the smart decision. However, we decided to continue on at least to Bench Lake just around the corner.

Bench Lake really was just around the corner and it was another little gem of a lake. Some decent size fish were hanging out in the shallows and from a perch high on the western shore I had a great vantage point and the opportunity to get some pictures. It looked like the next lake basin was just over the ridge so we thought we'd continue on.

After circling the east end of the lake I followed gullies up and to the north. Each step took us further into the sub-alpine zone and the area got more and more beautiful. The ground was covered with flowering heather and low-growing blueberry bushes. Trees dwarfed by the short growing season made me feel like a giant as I tried my best to avoid trodding upon anything delicate.

We came to another rock face with a talus field below, but it was easily bypassed under the shoulder of the point at 5449 feet putting us just a talus field away from the final traverse to our destination. Unfortunately, it was clear we couldn't continue.

The trip to this point had taken about five hours and although we had a bundle of light left in the mid-summer day we didn't have a reliable route out. Our best bet was to head back to Paradise Lakes to find the trail or try to drop into the next lake basin and follow the creek out. We opted for the latter and crossed the last talus field to get set to head down. (I snuck to the top of the field for a quick look over the ridge and sighed mightily at the way left untravelled.)

Our route followed the ridgeline down pretty aggressively. We tended toward the west and away from the lake basin to the east, but figured that was ok. I had heard of a nasty cliff near there that would require some climbing so I didn't regret going the other direction.

Unfortunately, we found cliffs of our own. In fact, we found three distinct bands of them. Without any climbing gear (or the knowledge to actually make use of it) we resorted to scrambling the shorter drops using anything we could lay hands on. Most often the blueberry bushes gave us a handhold, but we also used cedar boughs, alder, and cracks in the rock itself.

There were some dicey sections (and a few that still make me wonder what we were thinking), but finally, finally we were at the bottom and heading down a talus field. We stuck to the rocks because it was easier going than through the brush. Unfortunately, the talus gave out and we plunged into the salmonberry, blackberry, and devil's club.

(How uncool was this descent over the cliffs? So much so the camera never came out of its case as I was so focused on climbing down safely.)

Bushhwacking without something to whack with was an absolute nightmare. The branches and vines tied us up while the thorns sought to slice us to bits. In some areas the brush was taller than we were and we followed game trails down, always down. Just when we were sure we were completely done for I ducked into some cedars for a brief respite from the thorns and found the trail.

Initially, we were so overjoyed at the prospect of following a real trail, however faint, that we nearly bounded down the hill. However, the buzz quickly wore off and we began the trudge out. I was thrilled to find the bunchberry and deer fern meadow again, but it was getting late in the day so we didn't stop.

At the North Fork crossing I took my turn going into the river as I was climbing up off the rocks. Dan had little problem this time and the remainder of the trail was quickly knocked down. Except the final exit to the road where the trail continued in the wrong direction and we only noticed after a few minutes of confusion.

The cuts on our legs are too numerous to count. Many would have been eliminated had either of us thought to put on our gaiters that had served only to weigh down our packs. My hat was lost somewhere in the brush and I figure I had between five and 10 pounds of gear I hauled, but never had a need to use. (Better to be prepared... or something like that.)

Even as we were getting into the car I was already rationalizing the experience. If only we hadn't lost the trail we'd have made the Paradise Lakes in about two hours tops. If only we had returned the way we had ascended we'd have found the trail down and bypassed the nasty cliffs. Sure, I'd go back to the lakes to camp or fish there. You bet.

But next time I take a shot at my mythical peak and lake I'll do it from the Bare Mountain trail that climbs mercilessly to the saddle, but then it's clear sailing traversing under the cliffs.

The final insult was seeing a familiar truck parked behind Dan's car. It belonged to one of the other guys on nwhikers.net with WAY more experience than Dan and I put together. I now know that in the time it took us to get to the lakes they had already made it to the summit.

Total time for the hike was nine hours and 20 minutes. Total distance was only 4.3 miles. Total gain was 2,730 feet. Ouch.